


Breaking Point

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:30:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: shoot prompt- Root and Zoe finally meet. Totally hit it off. Shaw teases John about Zoe and John teases Shaw about Root while Root and Zoe are off in the corner talking and eyeing the Mayhem Twins every few minutes. Zoe asks Root if she's up for some fun and of course Root agrees. So they come up with this plan to see who can break first, Shaw or John. So they both start coming into work in very skimpy clothing and laying the flirting on really heavy. Loser buys dinner and a new taser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Point

"So this is the Bat Cave, huh?" Zoe Morgan asks, heels leaving sharp clicks to echo around the panopticon, eyes scanning over every last detail. Stopping, she peers up, gaze trailing along the tiled arch above her before coming to a stop on John Reese's face. He watches her, indifferent, hands at his sides and suit without a single crease. She smirks. "Home of the Man in the Suit?"

John's lips press together at the remark, and he begins to walk once more, headed purposefully towards an abandoned subway cart that lays rest at the edge of the terminal. Taking another, quick glance around, she follows.

"Not even gonna say hi?" A woman's voice asks, and Zoe turns quickly towards the sound. Her focus comes to a metal bench at the far end of the terminal, where a small woman all in black unfolds herself, standing up with the silent grace of a panther. Zoe smiles upon seeing her, and catches the warm quirk of a smile on the woman's face in return.

"It's nice to see you again, Shaw," Zoe responds amiably, taking a step forward to greet Sameen.

"What's got you traveling with  _John_?" Shaw asks, eyes flickering towards the cart before coming back to Zoe. Zoe's eyes light up pleasurably, lips smoothing into a dazzling smile.

"Looking to make the team."

"Congrats. You're on it." Shaw's voice is slightly bored, although it seems even the most exciting of things leave her under stimulated. Still, Zoe sees the sincerity past the flat humor, and nods her head.

"Thanks."

"Hey,  _Sweetie_ , who's the new friend?"

* * *

 

The voice comes from behind, rimmed with slightly suspicious undertones past an overly affectionate voice. At once, Zoe watches as Shaw animates, eyes dilating in annoyance as her tongue prods at her cheek. Shaw's arms fold, gaze set on the presence just beyond Zoe's right ear.

Impressed already with whomever can bring the Woman of Steel crackling, Zoe turns, ready to face-

Not what greets her.

She finds herself face to face with a tall woman with a slender frame and dark brown hair that comes spiraling down past her shoulders. She wears a self-satisfied smile and amused eyes as she looks past Zoe to Shaw, her own arms crossed, but in a much more lackadaisical manner.  _Well, I'll be damned,_  Zoe thinks to herself, inspecting the woman before her. For some reason, she'd always assumed that anyone who could move boulders would have to be a boulder themselves.  _She looks more like a flower, to me._

" _Shaw_ ," Zoe calls out from the corner of her mouth, smiling kindly as the woman's deep brown eyes finally land on her. "You never told me you had a  _girlfriend_."

At the statement, the woman before her seems to catch fire, all of her radiating a breathtaking glow as a large smile gleams out, revealing white teeth. From behind, Zoe can feel the ground quake from Shaw's rage.

"That's because I don't  _have_  one," she seethes, taking Zoe minutely by surprise. When Zoe turns to face her, she finds Shaw already stiffly by her side. "This is Root," she tells Zoe mechanically, teeth grinding with each syllable. "You'll find that she's extremely  _irritating_."

Root's eyes narrow playfully at Shaw as she tilts in slightly. "Don't pretend like you don't  _love_  it, Shaw," she coos, setting off what can only be compared to an atomic bomb within Shaw. She gives a soft shake of her head, rolls her eyes, then stalks away, headed anywhere else but there.

Zoe and Root stand in silence a moment, just until Shaw falls out of earshot, before both crack large smiles at one another. Zoe watches as Root's smugness slips away into a carefree attitude, and she drops her hands to the pockets of her pants. Zoe nods at her with approval and warning.

"You might want to watch out," Zoe tells her, dipping her head in the last direction Shaw travelled. "She might just strangle you."

Root shrugs her shoulders.

"She's already shot me and punched me in the face once," she responds with a nonchalance that makes Zoe chuckle in spite of herself.

"I'm Zoe Morgan," she tells Root, sticking out a hand. Root shakes it firmly, all the while Zoe's mind continues to sort her out. "I know the name..." She thinks to herself aloud, studying Root. "John and I were looking for someone like that years ago."

"A hacker?"

"Yeah."

"Hiding under a couple aliases?"

Zoe almost answers, but stops, suspiciousness mixed with liking causing an odd glint in her eyes.

"So I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say he's  _done_  chasing you?" Zoe asks, pleasure free flowing.

"It's hard to chase someone who likes sticking around," she replies, humorous quirk at the corner of her lip. Zoe presses her lips together, yet is still unable to hold back a smile. _I think I'm gonna like this one._

______\ If Your Number's Up /______

In less than ten minutes, the two women had not only started a deep set conversation, but completely hit it off. They were as much strangers as lions are vegans, sitting in the back corner of the subway station as they chat heatedly about anything that pops into mind- mostly fire arms and fatal attractions.

"So, you and John, huh?" Root asks, humoring herself with the idea. John Reese- cold, collected, and calculated- coupled with Zoe Morgan- fast, impulsive, and coy. It's like fire meeting ice, combining at a dangerous flash point.

"It was a while ago," Zoe responds, brushing it off with a nonchalance twisted in eluding tones. "Not that interesting. What  _is_  interesting," she continues, switching gears with a quick look up. She sees John and Shaw standing on the far side of the station, Reese busying himself with his handgun, and Shaw with a sandwich. "Is what's going on between  _you_  and  _Shaw_."

Root feels a heat rushing towards her cheeks, and she sits up a little, crossing her ankles and curling her fingers around the edge of the terminal.

"There's, uh, nothing going on," Root replies sheepishly. Although, what she is sheepish about is unclear.  _For the mistake, or for the fact that it is one?_ Zoe gives her a disapproving glare, eyes narrowed as she tilts her head in, smirk curling at the edges of her lips.

"Uh- _huh_ ," she responds, not believing a word. "So there's not a  _thing_  for her?" Root remains silent, face turning cyanotic as she forgets how to breathe. Zoe laughs. "Well she  _definitely_  has a thing for  _you_."

If Root had had a gun in her hand, it would have gone off. If she had been drinking a glass of water, she would have executed the perfect spit take. Instead, her eyes all but fall from her head.

She coughs, unsure what words are anymore, and fumbles to regain her composure. When she finally finds it, it is shaky at best.

"No," Root responds, nervous tremble rimming her voice. "We're just..." Root's gaze drifts away as she leans forward, looking past Zoe and to the two at the far wall. Her heart jumps out of her chest at seeing Shaw, whose eyes are fixated on her intensely. From this far away, she can still feel the heat of the dark gaze, and the coldness of the sneer that follows. Shaw snaps her head away, and Root feels as if she's been released from a dizzying trance.

She shakes her head, starting up once more and forcing her attention to come back to Zoe. "We're just close." Zoe raises her eyebrows, a smirk growing that illuminates her face with sinister pleasure.

"How  _close_  have the two of you gotten, exactly?" Zoe asks, twisting Root's words in a way that makes her stomach burst with butterflies. Root's face must show it, for Zoe chuckles in satisfaction. "You don't cease to surprise me, you know that?"

Root gives her a questioning look.

"You have no problem being overt around Shaw and the team- Hell, I'm sure you  _enjoy_  it- but if you actually have to  _talk_  about it? Trail goes completely cold." Root shifts awkwardly on the edge of the terminal, muscles ready to spring. "You need to..." Zoe trails off, lips pursed in thought as she looks straight ahead. "Break loose.  _Go_  for it." Something that before sounded like only a near-death or entirely-insane scenario becomes the most logical option as it leaves Zoe's lips with a definitive air.

"You think?" Root asks, sneaking another peek back at Shaw, a stronger firmness in her voice than before.

"I know."

"How?"

A thought stricken silence falls between them both, and Root looks straight ahead into the darkness of the tracks. Just when she can't stand it any longer, she turns to Zoe, whose eyes are spinning with ideas and scenarios. Finally, she blinks, and her gaze focuses on Root once more.

"You up for a little fun?" Zoe asks, grin on her brilliant face. Root can read her eyes, and sees something devious brewing.

"Of course," Root smiles back, heart picking up the smallest bit as the anticipation begins. The silence drags out like a seven year hiatus, and Root only grows more curious with each millisecond.

"If you can get Shaw to break before I can get John to, then I'll buy you dinner." Root lets the words sink in a minute, rolling each syllable over in her head.

"Tempting..." Root responds in a sly voice. "But I'm not convinced." Zoe's eyes narrow in good nature.

"Dinner  _and_  a taser." Root sits back, posture straightening as she presses her lips together to conceal a satisfied grin.

"Any rules?"

"Only one: try not to lose  _too_  hard," Zoe teases, pushing back from the edge of the terminal and getting ready to stand. Root scoffs, looking at Zoe with humorous and disbelieving eyes.

"And how do you expect to break John, huh?" Root responds in a matching tone. "He's like a pet rock." Zoe laughs merrily at the comparison, sticking out a hand to Root, who takes it kindly.

"Have you ever seen a rock beat a  _hammer_?" Zoe counters, bringing Root to a stand. Root lets out a silent chuckle as both of them direct their line of sight towards the Mayhem Twins.

"And what signifies a 'break'?" Root asks, eyes only on Shaw. She tries to find a way to go about this. Zoe had already had encounters with John on this playing field, but it's all new terrain to Root. Root's eyes tear from Shaw in a flicker to Zoe, where she sees the new addition to their team eyeing John up in serious concentration.

"You'll know it when you see it," she replies, words slightly distant. Root nods her head softly. She watches as Shaw talks with John, then looks to her. Their eyes connect, both holding thoughts between them, and Root wonders how to go about this.  _With the force of a hammer- like Zoe- or, perhaps, with the precision of a scalpel?_

________\ We'll Find You /________

"Why does she keep looking over this way?" Shaw grumbles aloud, tearing a bite out of a sandwich.

"Maybe she's checking you out," John counters, voice far off as he focuses on cleaning his weapon. Shaw stands there a moment, pondering what the two could possibly be talking about. However, at hearing John's reply, she stiffens.

"Clever," she retorts sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She leans her shoulder against the station's cool wall, facing John as she looks him over. He stands with a nonchalant slouch, cleaning his firearm delicately, head not moving from its downcast position. Yet, as Shaw watches, she sees his eyes flicker up from time to time. A wicked smile creeps onto her lips as coyness slithers into her speech.

"You afraid Root is going to steal your girlfriend?" Shaw asks, tone oozing humor. John looks away from his gun at that, eyes now trained on Shaw. For a second, he doesn't respond, eyes weighing his options.

"She wants her, she can have her," John responds, at last, with a shrug. "I work better when there isn't someone breathing down my neck."

"I didn't realize you two  _worked_  so close," Shaw counters, blood finally flowing in her veins after feeling stagnant from a day without work. The hint of a smile peeks out at the corner of John's lip, and he lets the gun return to its NYPD issued holster.

"Tell me something," John says, rolling his neck before looking over to Shaw. "Did Root do something today to get you so worked up?" Shaw's smile falls as John's grows, and she feels a prickle of annoyance at the question.

"I wasn't  _worked up_ ," she responds, only to get a glowering look from John. She holds her ground a minute, then sighs. "Yeah, she did."

"And what was that?" John asks.

"She opened her  _mouth_." John chuckles softly at the answer, giving his head the slightest shake.

"She's got a pretty good hold on you if all she has to do is 'open her mouth' for you to go nuts." Shaw's eyes narrow on him at once, heat rising from her hot enough to make Hell feel frozen over in comparison.

"Have you heard the things she  _says_?" Shaw hisses back defensively, and John nods.

"The things she says to you are a hell of a lot different than how she speaks to us." He responds, a casual air in his tone that makes Shaw see red.

"Well aren't  _I_  special," she retorts, rolling her eyes. Ripping off another bite of her sandwich with the ferocity of a wolf, her eyes travel back over the two women sitting at the edge of the terminal. Specifically Root, whose face- even from this distance- can be seen flushing. Shaw can feel a sneer forming on her lips from John's words, and as Root's eyes find her, it deepens. Shaw's unsure what has her so riled, but knows that whatever it is has to be expelled- soon. Tearing her gaze from Root forcefully, Shaw takes in a calming breath.

For a minute, a blanket of silence falls over them, and Shaw finds her mind drifting throughout the station. Wondering if John is right.  _He can't be_ , she says to herself, rather harshly.  _She talks to everyone in that stupid way._ Shaw rolls her tongue across her teeth in annoyance, thinking of all the things Root can say. Yet, as she scrolls through them, her feelings shift to something that gives the feel of free falling to her stomach. She can't describe it- there isn't a word for such an emotion. Shaw can't even tell if it's good or bad.

Blinking roughly a few times, she finds John still standing before her, eyes seemingly plastered straight ahead. Letting her eyes follow his line of sight, Shaw catches Zoe perfectly in the crosshairs.

"How long's it been?" Shaw asks, voice muddied by the food in her mouth. John looks at her with a question in his blue eyes, and Shaw swallows. "Since the last time the two of you, you  _know_ ," Shaw tilts her head Zoe's way, clicking her teeth. John visibly stiffens, and Shaw feels an ease coming to her, the pressure of before finally off her shoulders.

"Doesn't matter," he responds tactlessly, eyes only on Shaw now. Still, Shaw presses onward.

"How long until the  _next_  time?" She asks, innocent tone baiting him dangerously.

"Still. Doesn't. Matter." He replies shortly, red filtering into his icy gaze. Shaw can't help but laugh at the expense of his fluster.

"I give it a week.  _Maybe_  two," Shaw tosses out casually, glancing back over at the two women as they begin to stand.

"For you and Root? Maybe," John responds, ice trimming his calm words. "But I'm past it." Shaw crosses her arms, unsure whether to spit back a hostile defense or a hubris tease at John's self evaluation. With fire in her eyes and flames scorching her throat, she billows out a tuft of smoke from her nostrils before finally finding an ounce of calm.

"Can't wait to hear you tell  _her_  that," Shaw all but mutters, to which John presses his lips together in annoyance.

"Why don't we talk about something else?" He offers, patience wearing suddenly thin.

"But it's so fun breaking your stones," Shaw responds, smiling at his fluster.

"You want me to  _prove_  it to you?" John asks, the burst catching Shaw slightly off-guard. She doesn't allow it to show; however, merely tipping her head.

"How?"

John thinks a moment before replying. "A bet."

"A  _bet_?" Shaw echoes with a humored laugh. "What are we,  _twelve_? No-"

"We'll see who caves first. You over Root, or me over Zoe." It's like he poked a bear as Shaw descends on him, fangs extended and voice a fatal growl.

"The  _hell_  would I do  _that_  for," Shaw snarls, eyes black and face contorted in rage.

"Winner gets a hundred and fifty bucks," John continues, as if Shaw hadn't said a word, although there is an added cockiness in his eyes. Shaw's chest feels tight with anger, and her lip twitches in a spiteful sneer.

"I don't even have a  _thing_  for her," Shaw spits at him defensively, feeling her ears heat up. She's ready to shoot him, and just might.

"Then that should make it all the easier for you to win the game." John replies haughtily, smile like the devil on his charming face. Shaw's eyes are down to slits now, bristling like a cat with her back arched and shoulders back; eight feet of menace in a five foot frame.

"Fine," she says at last, voice choppy as she agrees. For some reason, she finds herself forced into the bet. As if, if she didn't, it would somehow reveal a feeling for Root. One that she won't even divulge to herself, let alone John. Yes, it's either take the bet or accept the truth.  _Ignorance is difficult,_ expensive _, bliss_. "You're on."

__________\ Breaking Point /__________

 _Is it just me, or as soon as you aren't allowed to find someone attractive, do they magically become ten times_ more _attractive over night?_

It's a question Sameen Shaw had been asking herself for six days. At one point, she felt like calling in sick for the day. It wouldn't be a lie, for seeing Root everyday since the bet brought on so many foreign emotions in Shaw, it made her nauseous. It seemed like, as John and Shaw made their bet, Shaw automatically found things harder. Sure, she'd never really shown Root any sort of affection, nor had she given any hint for even a chance of it; however, with the bet under way, Shaw found herself unable to think. It was as if somehow John could be in her mind, and if she thought one thought of Root, she would lose the bet. It was like putting an alarm on all thoughts pertaining to the hacker, enough so that Shaw- for the first time- realized just how much she actually had Root on her mind.

Before, Shaw could look at Root, and without having to necessarily announce it, she could let it fly in the back of her mind that she looked good. Before, Shaw could sit around thinking, her mind drifting from the topic of guns to the topic of Root with guns, then to just Root alone, and to working numbers with her, and so on. Now, even at the thought of Root, a siren wails in her head, screaming bloody murder. Shaw finds that more often than not, Root is on her mind. And, as the betting days grew longer, Shaw could swear Root's clothing became shorter and shorter.

"Hi there, Cutie," Root coos into Shaw's ear as she places a hand on each of Shaw's shoulders. In Shaw's thought-consumed state, she hadn't heard the hacker creep up on her from behind. The greeting sends a flustered heat to Shaw's cheeks, and the hands send a chill snaking down her spine. Shaw's breath catches, and she dares not breathe, merely looking straight ahead while her muscles coil tightly. "What's wrong?" Root asks, breath touching Shaw's neck and playing with her hair. "You seem... tense."  _Damn straight,_  Shaw thinks to herself heatedly. She'd never been able to make herself immune to Root's flirting, but the past few days seemed to top the list.  _Is it just me or is she being extra provocative this w-_

Shaw freezes, heart filling with butterflies and stomach flipping as every thought in her head goes blank. Slowly, letters form sluggish words in her mind.  _What... is she?... wh..._  She can feel Root's fingers tracing along her shoulders, thumbs caressing the tightest places at her shoulder blades. One word forms in Shaw's head.  _Massage?_

Reality hits Shaw like a freight train. Nearly jumping from her skin, she yanks herself away from Root, fury mixing with disbelief in Shaw's eyes, coming together to form an accusatory cocktail. Too stunned to sneer, Shaw stands, facing Root, all stone save for living eyes. She blinks a few times. Swallows. And, progressively, control of her limbs returns to her.

"Wh- What was- that- was  _that_?" Shaw stammers out, ears burning up. Root's shoulders drop as she smirks, dark eyes set mysteriously on Shaw.

"I was only trying to  _help_ ," Root replies, a laugh in her voice that makes Shaw's skin tingle.  _Shit, this is not good._  Shaw bites her bottom lip, forcing her eyes away from Root's. Right after, she almost wishes she hadn't.

Her eyes trail over Root's attire: a woman's suit. No problem, right? Maybe, if it Shaw's mind wasn't already overheating and if it weren't Root wearing it.  _And if it wasn't so damn revealing_. Shaw takes in her white blouse first, material almost thin enough to see through and first few buttons left hazardously undone. Then, as Shaw's eyes continue downwards, they come across a pinstripe skirt sitting high on Root's thighs and pencil tight. Down still, her gaze travels- down Root's legs and to strappy high heels.

 _Can she even run in that?_  Shaw asks herself, thinking of their numbers, and how physical activity in almost always inevitable. Scanning Root over again, she can't imagine how it would be possible for Root to-

_LOOK AWAY. LOOK AWAY, NOW._

The alarm in her head fires off a chant like a bullet, shrieking that she's thinking too much. At once, Shaw's eyes close tight and she casts her face to the side, counting to five. Breathe in; breathe out. Once the siren subsides, Shaw opens her eyes, gaze directed at the station's exit. She wants nothing more than to dash for it and never come back. Of all the times she'd stared terror in the face without flinching, this is a different monster entirely. This monster wears platform heels and lipstick just as deadly.

_Don't think about her lipstick._

"Shaw?  _Hello_?" Shaw's head whips back Root's way, only to be taken aback, forgetting just how close she still stands to her.  _Not impromptu massage close, but still_. "I asked if we've gotten any new numbers yet."

"Uh..." Shaw's mind is lagging, unable to comprehend anything past Root's dark hair and bright smile and dazzling eyes.

_Don't think about her eyes._

"No." She answers at last, getting it out like a triumph instead of a continuation of conversation.

"Are you  _sure_  nothing's wrong?" Root asks, taking a step closer- practically on top of Shaw now. Shaw's eyes are locked onto Root's, whose catch the overhead lights and shimmer with flecks of gold. Shaw can read amusement and affection in them, the usual; however, there is something Shaw cannot quite place. It gives her stomach an unsettling churn and her heart an unacceptable flutter. It's like longing coupled with hope. Shaw feels her lungs collapsing, and realizes she hasn't breathed in a while.

Taking in a large breath, Shaw is at once overwhelmed by the smell of Root. It envelops her entirely, taking her mind over and leaving her intoxicated. She can almost swear she's swaying on her feet.

"Yes."

"Is there anything you need?" Root asks, concern in her eyes.

_You._

"No." With that, Shaw takes a step back, needing space to think clearly. To breathe. Putting her hands on her hips, Shaw looks back to the exit, its easy access more tempting than ever. After she feels somewhat calmer, Shaw brings herself back to Root, only to find her fiddling aimlessly with one of her handguns. For some reason unbeknownst to Shaw, the air in the room suddenly becomes too hot to breathe. She finds herself suffocating, and isn't sure how to hide it. So instead, she bolts before Root has time to peer up and notice. With quick and efficient steps, she stalks to the farthest point away from Root, finding John headed in the same direction.

They collide at the wall where they originally started their game almost a week before, both catching their breath.

John clears his throat. "Is it just me or-"

"No," Shaw cuts him off, already knowing what he was going to say. Shaw tries to keep all of her attention on Reese; however, it is in vain. Her eyes slip away to see Root traveling closer. Shaw's throat feels tight. Yet, just before Shaw's throat fully constricts, Zoe walks into frame, and Root stops her approach. A humorous quirk appears at the corner of Root's mouth, knowing as well as Shaw that she was expecting Root to come for her, and gives Shaw a quick wink.

Shaw's gaze snaps back to John instantly, and she takes yet another steadying breath.  _At this rate, I'll need an inhaler by Tuesday._

"Do you know what the  _Hell_  is going on?" Shaw asks tightly. She watches John's profile- his eyes stuck like glue to Zoe- and he shakes his head. When Shaw mimics him- slouching against the wall to stare straight ahead- she sees Zoe eyeing up John with a calculated smirk on her face. Her eyes undress him a thousand times over, and the way her mouth won't stop moving shows it. She brings her hand up to her head, fingers running through her hair before she makes a beckoning motion to him with one finger.

"Shaw?" John says, voice not at all its collected norm.

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to play anymore." Shaw looks over to him at that, confusion on her brow.

"What?"

"You win," he tells her, eyes still looking forward. "I'm done." At hearing the words, a triumphant smile spreads across her lips.

" _Really_?" She asks, egging him on in a teasing tone. "I thought it was all in the  _past._ "

"I lied," he responds, pulling out his wallet on auto pilot, and Shaw can't help but chuckle.

"Someone trained in the military to  _never_  break, no  _matter_  the pressure?" Shaw asks him, false surprise in her voice. "And you’re gonna-"

"Just take the goddamn money, Shaw," he says, holding it out to her. Still not looking at her. Shaw, after a moment, swipes it from his hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you, John," she comments amiably, but he's already gone.

Smug and satisfied, Shaw heads over to the terminal's bench, steering clear of John as he approaches the two women. Sitting down, she quickly counts her winnings, pleased that it's all there. Feeling a presence at her side, Shaw stuffs the bills in her pocket before looking up. Who she sees gives her heart an involuntary jump. Root stands at the edge of the bench with a timid smile on her face, eyes showing slight deflation. Coming closer, Root sits at Shaw's side, less than an inch away, before bending over to undo the straps of her shoes. Shaw watches her, eyes trailing along Root's back before getting lost in the curtain of hair that veils her face. As Root sits back up, Shaw's eyes look straight ahead, leaving no evidence of her watching only moments ago.

"I'm quite disappointed in you, Shaw," Root sighs, kicking her feet up on the bench and resting her back against Shaw's arm. She lets her head dip back on Shaw's shoulder, the top of her head against Shaw's neck. At once, Shaw finds herself overwhelmed with Root once again, even more so now that they are so close. Root's hair tickles Shaw's jaw, but she doesn't dare move a muscle.

"Oh, yeah?" Shaw asks, hiding the tenseness within her as best she can. "Why's that?"

"Because of  _you_ ," Root tells her in an accusatory tone, "I owe Zoe a taser and a dinner." This time Shaw freezes, visibly expressing what she at first held on the inside, only for an entirely different reason. Feeling the shift, Root sits up just enough to meet Shaw's eye.

"Like a  _dinner_  dinner?" Shaw presses a little too firmly, jealousy making itself known. Root tilts her head, giving Shaw a smile with lips pressed tightly together before slipping into a more provocative state of mind.

" _No_ ," she responds, amusement filtering back into her somber expression. "Like an 'I-lost-a- _bet_ ' dinner." Root goes to lay her head back down, but Shaw turns her torso to face Root fully, unintentionally blocking the advance.

"A  _bet_?" Shaw asks. "You had a  _bet_  with her?" She sighs in humored relief. "On what? Who could wear the shortest skirt without Finch sending you  _home_?" Root scrunches her nose at the reaction, something Shaw- now free from the restraints of her  _own_  bet- willingly admits is captivating.

"On who would break first," Root corrects, smile falling from Shaw's lips. "You or John."

"What do you mean?" Shaw demands, slightly ruffled as she sits up a little straighter. "Like which of us in general?" Shaw can feel her heart picking up in her chest, yet is too curious herself to scold it. Root widens her eyes minutely, visibly annoyed at the question.

Slowly, she starts off. "Zoe said that John would break first; I said you. John would cave over Zoe, and..." Root's cheeks pinken slightly as she swallows, eyes flickering away. "You can fill in the other half." Shaw laughs buoyantly at the idea of such a thing- the same idea John had had himself- and shakes her head with a smile. However, the grin falls once her eyes come back to Root, who looks hurt. Shaw scrunches her lips to the side, feeling guilty but unsure how to show it.

"Well, uh, John and I had a bet too," she tells Root, whose sadness instantly swaps for a pique in interest. Seeing the positive shift, Shaw forces herself to continue. "His idea. He said I would, um..." She stops, not sure how to form the explanation. She thinks of the way their conversation went, how their 'breaking' had more to do with getting under the covers than getting under their skin, and her face loses some color. "You know," she mumbles out at last, looking away from Root and facing forward once more. "The whole caving thing." From the corner of her eye, she can see Root nodding. "He, uh, he lost."

Root gives a light smile, the mere thought of being bet over bringing it to her face; however, with the closing line, a melancholy blanket is thrown across her shoulders once more. Smile falling, Root leans against Shaw once more, eyes fixed at the ceiling. Then, slightly uncomfortable, she turns, resting the side of her head against Shaw's shoulder, nestling in a little closer. Shaw swallows hard, all of her instincts screaming to jump up, to push her away- hell- to shoot her then and there. But something stronger holds her back, something she doesn't necessarily understand. Instead, she leaves Root there, trying to appear as calm as possible.

"Yeah," Root sighs out at last in a bummed tone. Her mouth is so close that, as she speaks, Shaw can't help but think of it. " _He_  lost."

For a few minutes, the two sit in silence, nothing but the hum of the lights and each other's breathing filling the space around them. Shaw's heart grows louder with each beat, ribs starting to hurt as they get ready to crack, and Shaw can only hope that Root doesn't hear it. Little does she know that Root is hoping the same thing.

"How much is a good taser?" Shaw asks at last, voice a sonic boom in the quiet.

"Thirty-two dollars," Root responds automatically. Ignoring how Root can muster such an exact answer off the top of her head, Shaw continues.

"Okay... How much for a dinner?"

"Maybe... fifty bucks? Sixty?" Root answers after a second, then stops. She sits up, to Shaw's silent disappointment, directing curious eyes at Shaw's profile. "Why?"

"I got a hundred-fifty outta John," Shaw informs her, turning her gaze on Root. "So, to make up for my  _horrible_  failure," Root smiles at the sarcasm, "I'll give you the money for it." Shaw watches Root's posture change from gloomy to warm, smile on her face brighter than the sun.

"Thanks, Shaw," Root says to her gratefully, all the while Shaw's eyes crunch numbers quickly to herself.

"That still leaves a couple bucks left over," Shaw remarks, eyes flickering away for a millisecond before returning to Root. "You wanna grab something?" Root goes completely still at the proposal, eyebrows knit together as she finds herself thrown by the question.

"What do you mean?" Root asks cautiously, movements slowly picking back up. Shaw's lips press together tightly, irritated by having to explain herself further. She thinks of giving up entirely, but decides she's come this far, so why not keep going.

"Do you want to get lunch?" She elaborates. "It's not too late to-"

"Like a  _date_?" Root cuts in, eyes lit in joy and smugness as she looks excitedly to Shaw. Shaw's eyes narrow at once, face hot with embarrassment at how loud Root says it. Yet, she says nothing to tell Root otherwise, which only makes Root glow even more. Root stares into Shaw's eyes until Shaw's ears turn red before she stands up, slipping into her heels before holding a hand out to Shaw.

"Let's go," Root chirps happily, unable to hide her smile. After a moment of reluctance, Shaw takes her hand. Yanking hard, Root is pulled down, only able to stop her descent by throwing out her free hand. It connects somewhat forcefully to the top of the bench, allowing a sting in her palm. Still, Shaw pulls her in until their noses are a hair width from touching, Root's arm grazing the side of Shaw's head. This close, Shaw can see every detail of Root's face, every dizzying feature, but holds herself together with a hostile front. In Root's eyes, Shaw can see the surprise mixed with a trickle of heart-thudding fear, and smirks internally. On the outside, though, Shaw is evidently pissed.

"And the next time you want to put a bet on me," Shaw tells her in a low snarl, eyes fire and her voice ice. " _Don't_." With that, she lets her eyes scan Root one last time- from the exhilaration in her eyes to the ghost of a smile on her lips- then stands. Root moves with her, keeping the same short distance between them, letting the tension grow to the breaking point.

Silence.

"C'mon," Shaw grumbles at last, brushing past Root and heading heatedly for the station's exit. Root watches her go a moment before nearly frolicking after her, smile robust. As she comes up beside Shaw, Shaw doesn't even look over to her, merely keeps her eyes steadily on course. She feels something in her hand as Root tries to hold it, but immediately shakes her off. Again Root tries, and again Shaw shakes her off, steam starting to billow from her ears. Once more, Root places her hand in Shaw's, and this time, she lets Root go.

From the corner of her eye, she can see Root's lips pressing together as a grin fights its way to her face, eyes shining like stars. She looks like an excited puppy told to sit and to stay. She wants to fidget, to run around, but keeps all her energy at bay.  _Barely_. Shaw rolls her eyes at Root's appearance, failing to keep the quirk of a smile off her own face as they leave the station.


End file.
